Sun Tea
by saketini
Summary: Canonverse Rusame. Russia visits during Summer. America tries to make it perfect and his guest shows his appreciation.


_Cover him in honey and kiss him silly, darling._

* * *

раздражающий - "razdrazhayushchiy," annoying/how annoying

нет - "nyet," no

Америка - "Amerika"

Россия - "Rossiya"

* * *

Russia rolled over on the sofa onto his stomach and sighed. He had been enjoying a jet-lag induced nap until he was awoken by a rather loud crash, shatter, and bang from his host's kitchen. This was followed by the pained creak and slam of quickly opened and closed cabinet doors.

"раздражающий," he complained into the fabric.

The couch was well-placed near the window and directly in a patch of sunlight. It made for an especially comfortable nap. Despite the July heat, he pulled his ever-present scarf up over his ears and buried his head under the throw pillows.

He got up when the wailing started.

Patting his scarf back into place, Russia marched to the open doorway and source of the noise. He found his American in the kitchen, standing in the middle of an alarmingly large amount of mismatched pans and servingware that had been strewn across the tiles. America was clutching a plastic jug and wailing.

"Америка? You are loud."

"I can't find my pitcher!"

Used to the other's outbursts, he shuffled through the mess to reach him and patted him gently on the head.

"Why do you need it?"

"I want to make you sun tea."

_Sun tea?_

He stowed the question away for later and nodded gently. Sliding his hand under America's chin, he tilted his face up to meet his eyes.

"Does it have to be that pitcher?"

"Yes!"

"What is wrong with the plastic one in your hands?"

"You can't make it in a plastic pitcher! Besides, that's my sun tea pitcher. I have to make it in that one."

"…and the red glass pitcher on the counter?"

"It can't be _red_," he dragged out the offending word and stomped his foot, "It has to be clear."

The younger was frowning now at the rejected plastic in his hand.

_Cute._

"I will help you look," he tugged the apparently _very wrong_ pitcher out of the other's hands. "Tell me what is 'sun tea.'"

"Ah! Okay. I always make it in Summer because it's nice over ice. It's tea that you let brew in the sunlight. I'll show you once we find the stuff."

He leaned over and scooped up some of the rejects off the floor. The kitchen was one of his larger ones, recently remodeled yet still complementary of the home's antebellum architecture. White painted cabinets contrasted with dark blue accents and golden pulls. A large island sat in the middle, the countertop already showing signs of wear from well-kneaded biscuits and the rolling of pie crusts.

"You could put those away."

"I _could_, but I'm not. This is fine for now. Besides, I'm entertaining my guest. Too busy to clean."

America began to root around in the lower cabinets, singing to himself as he searched. Above him was Russia's favorite part of the room, a large window with a deep windowsill and a view out to the back yard. Yellow poppies and white roses could be seen dotting the lawn and winding around the back porch. The window had been opened slightly to allow for the cherry pie that rested on its sill it to cool, welcoming in a sweet smelling breeze.

"_For after dinner,__" __America__ had gestured excitedly to his creation when __Russia__ had arrived. __"__I know you like these kinds of things!__"_

"Do you remember when you had it last?"

"Um," America extracted himself from the cabinet and turned to plop his hands on his hips. "I thought so but I guess not since it wasn't where it should be. The last time I had people over I used it for lemonade. And England made…oh!"

He ran off in the direction of the dining room. Russia stayed and eyed the pie, contemplating poking a finger through the latticework crust to sneak a taste.

"I'll kick your ass if you touch that thing before dinner!"

Russia laughed softly and hid his smile behind his scarf. Behind him, another slam could be heard from the adjoining room.

"Found it~" America sang before he ran back into the kitchen with his prize. "Ta da! Perfect, right? England must have put it away with the old tea set the last time he and Canada were here."

He shoved it under Russia's nose for inspection and approval. It looked to be rather old, probably collected sometime in the late 19th century judging by the style. Sunflowers had been etched into the base and atop the lid, their opaque outlines contrasting with the sparkling transparency of the rest of the glass.

"Perfect," he agreed.

America nodded happily before carrying it to the sink to rinse and sanitize.

"Could you grab the tea for me? The boxes are in the cabinet above the fridge with the cereal."

Russia shuffled away from the pie to the other side of the room and opened the indicated doors.

"You have a lot of cereal," he said.

"The unicorn likes Lucky Charms and Costco had a sale."

Russia decided to accept this statement as normal.

"Black tea?"

"Yeah, whatever I've got up there. Lipton's fine."

He rummaged in the cabinet for the box he found most appealing. Behind him, America had returned to the island with the pitcher, now filled with water.

"Filtered water works best," his fingers lingered over Russia's hand as he took the offered tea.

Taking what Russia determined to be a completely random number of bags out of the box, he dropped them in the water and trapped the strings between lid and lip of the glass to prevent them from becoming completely submerged. He moved the jar to the windowsill, tucking it neatly beside the pie.

"…That's it?"

"Yeah! We come back in a few hours and it's done. Then you pour it over ice. The sun does all the work. I have honey lemons and simple syrup in the fridge to make it sweet."

"Do we watch?"

"Nah, now we nap."

America grinned brightly as he grabbed Russia's hand and tugged him towards the french doors to the back yard, indicating for him to grab a basket that had been set on the floor. Stopping under a large weeping willow past the flowers, America pulled a red and white checked blanket out of the basket and smoothed it over the grass. When Russia took the hint and laid down, he dropped his glasses on the ground and sprawled beside him. Russia waited until he stopped wiggling before asking his question.

"Now tell me what are 'honey lemons' and why are they making the tea sweet?"

"Those are easy too," America propped his chin up on hands that he crossed over Russia's chest and met his eyes. "I sliced lemons last night and covered them in honey. You lay them out on a plate and cover it, then you leave that all in the fridge overnight. After that you put a slice in the bottom of your cup and pour tea over it. Very convenient. Tony helped."

He hummed happily to emphasize his point and leaned forward to kiss Russia on the nose.

"They're good for hot tea too. Or you can eat 'em straight. They get really sweet."

Curious about the last statement, Russia lifted his hand up to pull the younger closer towards him for a proper kiss. Lingering briefly but firmly on the lips.

"Tastes sweet," he licked his own lip thoughtfully while pulling away. "You were eating them."

"No way! Besides I totally saw you trying to sneak the cherry pie. Check again."

America leaned forward and kissed him, squarely on the mouth, still smiling. Russia himself moved at a leisurely pace, sliding his fingers up the nape of America's neck and under the chain that held his dog tags. The metal disks clinked gently between them as they moved. Taking the small laugh that bubbled out of the American as an opportunity, he slid his tongue over his lower lip and bit gently at the corner of his mouth. He could taste the rounded sweetness of the honey backed by the bright tang of the lemon and candied cherries, a taste he decided was both very _Summer_ and very much _America__._

He freed his other hand to wrap it around America's lower back, siding his hand under his shirt and pulling him on top of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled onto the other's lips.

"Hmm?"

"For the tea and the pie."

"Ah," clearly happy with the compliment, he kissed him again and ran his fingers under his scarf to trail along his neck. "Check in the basket."

He moved his hand from the other's hair to comply, fingers closing around a familiarly shaped bottle.

"You weren't planning on napping."

"Oh, darn," he laughed and wiggled again, dragging his hips in an intentionally slow pattern. "You got me."

Russia pressed his hand more firmly on the other's back and sat up, catching him so he remained in his lap as hands grabbed at his shoulders and legs wrapped around his hips for balance.

Setting the bottle down on the ground, he slid his now free hand under the front of America's shirt to run fingers along his stomach. He pressed their foreheads together, watching the other's fair lashes flutter as he danced circles around his navel before pinching up towards a nipple and earning a gasp. Seemingly unable to sit still, America shifted closer to align their hips and sighed. Russia trailed his other hand further to slip under the waistband of his jeans.

"If you do not want to nap," he began and kept his eyes on America's, "then what was your plan?"

"Well, since my closest neighbors are a few miles away, I was thinking this would be a great chance to screw in the sun. Problem?"

"нет," he slid his hand further into the younger's jeans and squeezed firmly.

America rolled his hips forward in appreciation, pressing the bulge of his arousal into Russia's stomach by way of seeking attention. He felt America's hands loosen their grip on his shoulders to slide up and tug at the drape of his scarf until it fell loosely behind him on the blanket.

"Too hot," was whispered into the curve of his neck before lips kissed their way up to his ear.

Russia pulled his hand from under America's shirt to cradle the back of his head. Feeling he had him securely, he leaned and pitched them forward so the other was now on his back.

"Hey, what—"

"Will be better this way. I want to show my host my appreciation for his hospitality."

"But—"

"моя Америка likes attention. It will be fun."

Satisfied when his only response was a blushed frown, he pressed closer to kiss happily at the twist of his lips before sliding his hands back under his shirt.

"Off with this, lift your arms," he pulled at the hem.

Below him, America complied with cheeks flushed pink with lust and affection while his cornflower blue eyes gazed at the cloudless sky between branches.

"Bad?" he questioned as the other stared.

"No, it's nice. The sky, and Summer, and…this. It's nice."

Russia's next kiss was slow, gentle and patiently soft in spite of the tight ache of his cock. He collected America's trailing hands in one of his own, thumbing at the pulse in his wrists as his braced himself with his other arm. Sliding lips and tongue across the warmth of his cheek and down the tight lines of his neck, he moved to bite firmly at his clavicle. Surprised by the sudden change, America jolted beneath him and pinched his thighs in a tighter hold around Russia's.

"Good," he confirmed into America's skin as he licked in apology and moved further down to tug at nipples with his teeth.

The warm thighs around him tightened further, a secure anchor against the vast sky and trailing branches and dizzying pattern on the old gifted blanket. America sighed sweetly into the Summer-honeyed breeze that danced in their hair and kissed at their skin. Russia smiled as he felt the other's cock pressed against him again with an arching movement of his back.

"Let go. Want to touch you," America tugged at his hands until Russia released them with a final caress.

Warm fingers threaded into his hair and twisted loops affectionately into the locks, urging him lower. Russia moved further as the legs around him loosened their grip. He spun his tongue in similar loops around his navel and kissed at the softness of the stomach in his grasp.

He pulled back to undo the other's belt, America's fingers running from his hair down to slide along his arms. His dog tags clinked again, in time with the noise of his belt as it fell with his shifting. Russia looked up to watch his expression as he pulled off the rest of his clothes, catching his eyes closed to the sky while the leaves above them dotted shadows across his brow and the kiss-bitten swell of his lips.

He curled his fingers again around the bottle of lubricant that had been tucked hopefully into the basket that morning before kissing the other's inner thigh. Snapping off the cap, he poured a liberal amount into his palm before rubbing his hands together briefly to warm it.

"Why am I the only one who's naked? Join me."

"Hmm," Russia chose to silence the beginnings of his protest with a firm swipe of his fingers along his cock, earning a gasp and causing the other to tighten his fingers along his forearms.

"Eventually," he conceded.

Russia leaned forward over him, watching his expression change as he grabbed loosely around the base to stroke gently. America's hands shifted to his back, trailing under his shirt to dance along the lines of his scars in time with his movements. Russia slid his free hand down further, feeling the thighs around him tighten once more as he pushed a lubricated finger into the warm, dry space. Nails dug briefly into his back and America's eyes fluttered shut once more at the intrusion. This time, his sighs came closer to gasps.

_Cute._

"See? моя Америка likes attention."

"Asshole," America managed a half-glare before another finger was added and pressed in deeply.

No longer able to ignore his own need for attention, he pulled back to tug off his own belt and pants and fold them by his side. He watched as America smiled and shifted on the blanket, watching him in turn as he again uncapped the lubricant to spread more on his hands and cock. Russia knelt on his knees, pulling America onto his thighs for easier movement. Nudging partially, gently into the other, he blinked away stars as he felt as America leaned up and grab at his shoulders for leverage. With a short jerk and snap of his hips, Russia pushed in fully and sighed into the other's moan.

He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the blanket beneath them, stabilizing himself as he felt a dizzy rush from the warmth of the skin beneath him, the clutch of the fingers on his shoulders, and the clenching tightness around his cock with the sun on his back and breeze in his hair. Russia tightened his hold along the tanned dips of the other's hips.

"Россия?"

Concerned hands caressed at his face, thumbs trailing across his cheeks until he again opened his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yes," he leaned forward to press a kiss into the knot of his brow, "Outside is nice. You were right. It's nice."

"Good," he smiled again.

America knotted his legs around Russia's waist once more, shifting until his twists caused the cock inside him to brush against the right spot. He gasped when he hit the position and dropped his hands back to Russia's shoulders to grip. Russia felt him stretch and arch off the ground as the first few thrusts caused the twisting aching heat in his own stomach to grow.

He decided he liked America's eyes best without their glasses, blue and open and again locked on the sky.

Russia felt his chest knot and thud with a now familiar feeling as he realized he wasn't grabbing, but clinging to the other's hips. Catching that he had moved to a faster pace, he slowed into a gentle rocking rhythm to hit his prostate with deliberate accuracy. America arched back further, exposing his neck and Adams' Apple to the sunlight as he gasped and moaned into each thrust.

Russia licked at the corners of his own lips, tasting not the sweetness of honey and cherry but the twist of salt from sweat.

He rolled his hips faster, listening to the sound of his own heavy breathing mixing with America's _ah__'__s _and sighs as he smiled, flushed and blinking beneath him. Russia swirled his thumbs on his hips in time with the warm friction of his other movements.

_Я люблю тебя__._

Russia decided the knot in his chest was a pleasant ache.

He reached forward to grab at the other's cock, slick and shiny with pre-cum and lubricant, needing only a few strokes and twists to cause the other to spill onto his stomach. His hands clutched, sliding on America's smooth hips as he climaxed, falling off tempo as he caught himself from tumbling forward.

The leaves caught in the wind above them, pulling back to reveal a lone cloud being tugged across the sky.

Russia grabbed him around the middle and pulled him close, curling into the center of the blanket as he caught his breath.

"America?"

"Yeah?"

"Shower. Then nap. Then tea and pie?"

"Sounds like a plan, Sunshine."

He rolled over, wrapping the blanket around them both.

* * *

_America__ feeds the pet unicorn he got from England Lucky Charms_ _and nothing you tell me will convince me otherwise._

_Sun tea is delicious and you should make it._


End file.
